


The Love Hour

by Snowy38



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Insecure Louis, Librarian Louis, M/M, Media Student Harry, Older Louis, Past Emotional abuse (mentioned), Radio Harry, Some angst, age gap, hot stuff, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy38/pseuds/Snowy38
Summary: "Shit. Hi. Hello. Fuck....""May I politely remind you that we are live on air, Tom. Please keep swearing to a minimum.""Oh. Oh yeah.""How can I help you, Tom?""I'm single.""Hmm..."Shallow breaths can be heard, a scratchy noise born of fidgeting."That's it, really," the voice states, raspy and slightly high-pitched. Nervous.Harry shuffles forward in his chair, crossing his feet underneath."It's okay to be single," he begins in his best soft voice, deep but attentive. Kind. "Maybe that's not the real problem here, Tom."Or the fic where Harry is a love Guru and Louis needs relationship advice. Lots of it.





	The Love Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Hi people
> 
> My inspiration for this story was the Radio 1 pictures of Harry, if only my photoshop was working to make a graphic :'(
> 
> Hope you like this little thing.
> 
> Thanks as always to Jules.
> 
> Ang

Artwork by HalfanHeart158

 

 

The Love Hour

 

_"Welcome to The Love Hour, I'm your host Harry Styles and I'm here for the next hour to talk about your love issues here on Smooth Radio..."_

 

Louis bites his lower lip nervously while the hold music beaming through the speaker of his cell-phone lulls him into some kind of comforted trance. Truth is, he should hang up. He should hang up and forget any ideas he ever had about calling a radio station for relationship advice.

 

Or non-relationship advice.

 

Or any advice, really.

 

Because if anyone recognises his voice and knows it's him then he'll never live it down and well-

 

"You're through to Smooth Radio, Love Hour, who am I speaking to?"

 

The voice on the other end of the line takes Louis by surprise and he freezes, hand clamped around his phone unable to move to end the call or toss the phone away or just plain end this stupidity.

 

"Louis Tomlinson," He replies without thinking, then, "Fuck. No, I mean...can you call me something else?"

 

The female on the other end of the phone launches into a smooth-voiced speech.

 

"We can protect your identity, Louis. What's the reason for your call?"

 

"What's the...?" Louis' mouth has gone dry., His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and he's pretty certain he can't breathe. He doesn't _know_ why he called. He doesn't know why his fingers dialled the number as the host read it out for a second time in his enticing, hypnotising voice.

 

"Um, the host," he says

 

The girl clears her throat.

 

"We have a lot of callers wanting to speak to Harry, Mr. Tomlinson. I'm sorry but-"

 

"No!" He cuts in, not sure why he's saving himself here when he should just let her cut him off, for the sake of his own sanity. "I mean, he read out the number and I just found myself here. Talking to you. But I actually do need help."

 

"I'll need to take some details before we put you on air."

 

Louis lets the waves of hysteria crash over him.

 

//

 

"Thank you Frank for calling the show tonight, hope everything goes well," Harry clicks on the laptop screen in front of him efficiently. "Who do we have on the line next?"

 

He pushes up the volume button that plays the theme tune of the show and lowers the microphone.

 

"What does that say?" He hisses to Dana, his colleague.

 

"Tom," she smiles. "It's three letters, can't you read?"

 

"Tom," Harry clears his throat and swaps the volume sliders as he leans into the mic.

 

"We have Tom on the line," he announces, clicking on his screen to load up the call. "Are you there Tom?"

 

"Shit. Hi. Hello. _Fuck_...."

 

"May I politely remind you that we are live on air, Tom. Please keep swearing to a minimum."

 

"Oh. Oh yeah."

 

"How can I help you, Tom?"

 

"I'm single."

 

"Hmm..."

 

Shallow breaths can be heard, a scratchy noise born of fidgeting.

 

"That's it, really," the voice states, raspy and slightly high-pitched. _Nervous_.

 

Harry shuffles forward in his chair, crossing his feet underneath.

 

"It's okay to be single," he begins in his best soft voice, deep but attentive. _Kind_. "Maybe that's not the real problem here, Tom."

 

The line is quiet. Statically so.

 

"You still there? I haven't lost you have I?"

 

Harry leans back to check the connection, sees the little green light on his phone software on screen that tells him the call is still live.

 

"I'm still here." The voice tells him. "And I think maybe you're right. Being single isn't the problem. Finding a nice guy to date though, is."

 

"A nice guy." Harry states, a smile tugging his lips. "And what does that mean to you, Tom?"

 

Harry hears rustling again and checks the incoming call volume; checks his next song is queued up ready to play.

 

"Someone who loves me."

 

It's whispered and rushed but Harry hears it loud and clear. He hears it louder than his own heartbeat thrumming against his chest.

 

"Someone will love you," Harry assures quietly, biting his lip as he wonders if he should take the call off-air. "What makes you think they won't?"

 

"It's-it's a few things actually."

 

Harry flicks his eyes to the glass window dividing the room into two, the crew on the other side- _well, Dana_ \- signalling to him to wrap it up.

 

"I'd love to hear about them," Harry tells the caller and expertly slides the sound-board buttons about to load a song. "Meanwhile let's play a song for our listeners, here's 'If You Come Back' by Blue..."

 

Harry slips his headset off and runs to the office to pick up the wireless hand-set where Tom's call is waiting.

 

//

 

"You still there?"

 

Louis hears the slight breathless quality of the low-pitched voice and _Mr. Love Hour_ is talking to him directly, no listeners and no stage fright.

 

"Yeah. I'm still here."

 

"Good. Because I can tell you're finding it hard to open up to me but I really want to help you..."

 

Louis swallows.

 

"My name isn't Tom."

 

"What _is_ your name?" Harry asks smoothly.

 

"Louis," he admits.

 

"Okay, Louis. Tell me why you don't think you're worthy of love."

 

"Because of the way I look, mostly. Also, I'm a bit...confrontational sometimes and-"

 

"And?"

 

Louis' tongue gets stuck again, he swallows a few times to un-stick it but he's two seconds away from hanging up.

 

"Okay, look, you don't have to tell me," Harry leads, glancing up to signal Dana to spin another song to give him another few minutes of time. "But promise me you'll call next week?" Harry asks. "I want to make sure you're ok."

 

There's a long pause filled with breathing, then the quietest 'Okay' Harry has ever heard.

 

"Great. Look, Louis, I have to go now. Thanks for calling, speak to you soon."

 

The line goes dead before Louis can reply and one thing rings over and over in his mind.

 

 _Harry had remembered his name_.

 

//

 

"Love Hour back on your radio waves for the next forty-five minutes," Harry segues his voice in from the 15 minute theme tune slot. "We've got plenty of calls tonight so let's take the next one..."

 

Harry negotiates his laptop to pick up the first call waiting. 

 

"Good evening who am I speaking to?"

 

"Hi. It's...um. It's Louis."

 

Harry ignores the flutter in his chest and doesn't acknowledge the sudden smile breezing onto his lips.

 

"Hiii," he greets warmly. "And how are you this fine evening?"

 

"Er...Yeah I think I'm OK. "

 

"Listeners might remember Louis from last week's show where he called in with a pseudo- name but now he's being brave and calling back to tell us what's been happening... "

 

"Nothing's been happening," Louis supplies quietly.

 

"No dates?" Harry teases.

 

Louis' end of the line goes quiet.

 

"Nobody wants to date me." He states.

 

"Have you asked anyone?"

 

"I'd just get turned down."

 

"You don't know that."

 

"Neither do you, Mr Love Guru." Louis accuses. "I could be ugly for all you know."

 

"There's no such thing as ugly. "

 

Louis shakes his head with a twisted smile.

 

"You haven't met _me_."

 

Harry turns up his background song and gives himself time to think. He can't do the unthinkable. Can he? Dana would murder him because inviting guests onto the show involves so much legal paperwork and yet-

 

Harry wants to meet this Louis and talk to him face to face. Reassure him.

 

"I'm sure many of my listeners can empathise with how you're feeling right now, Louis," he soldiers on smoothly. "If you go to the website there's plenty of links detailing counselling services available in your area who can help with self-esteem..."

 

Harry turns the music up again, to say to Louis,

 

"Leave your number with Dana, Louis. I'll call you back tonight."

 

And he doesn't know why he said it or why, out of the ten callers he got each week this one stays with him but. He does. And Harry isn't about to let him fade away.

 

//

 

Louis stares at the unknown number lighting up his screen and lets it ring three times before answering.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Louis, it's Harry Styles here. From the radio."

 

His voice has a pleasant deep, smooth richness that Louis feels a bit breathless at.

 

"You sound like a salesman," Louis accuses gently.

 

Harry snorts.

 

"I suppose I kind of am."

 

"What are you selling?"

 

Harry hums for a moment.

 

"How about a seat in the studio?"

 

Louis' breathing stutters.

 

"What?"

 

"How about you come into the studio and we go on air together and get to the bottom of your dating issues?" He poses.

 

Louis swallows.

 

"You don't usually-"

 

"No, I don't," Harry cuts across him jovially. "But I can guarantee by the end of my show you'll have at least a few guys lining up to take you out."

 

Louis takes a few minutes to really think about it. On the one hand, he'll be getting what he ultimately wants. On the other hand; at what price?

 

"Come on the show, Louis," Harry encourages softly. "I'll look after you."

 

Louis finds himself whispering an agreement, confusion lacing his veins as Harry begins to chatter excitedly about arranging the details.

 

"That's great Louis!" He finishes up with. "I can't wait to meet you."

 

Louis feels dread pool in his stomach as he ends the call.

 

There is no way in hell he can do this.

 

//

 

"Zayn, please."

 

"No."

 

"Come on, I need you," Louis begs.

 

Zayn turns from his easel where he's painting a master-piece and narrows his eyes at Louis.

 

"You told him you were ugly," he accuses.

 

Louis' cheeks flame because he didn't know Zayn had listened in to the show.

 

"Lou, hate to break it to you but I'm not exactly ugly."

 

Louis' lips flicker in a half-wry smile, half sad pout.

 

"That's true. I hadn't thought about-"

 

"You're not ugly either," Zayn quickly denies Louis his thoughts. "Just because that prick Callum did a number on you doesn't mean all guys are fuckwits, yeah?"

 

Louis gulps. Because Callum _did_ do a number on him. He's psychologically broken Louis down into a complete state of insecurity. He had played mind games that had Louis believing everything he said. It had taken intervention from his friends and family to get him out of that relationship and he'd always been seen as a sassy character, strong minded and sure. It had taken everyone by surprise how he'd let himself be brain-washed into thinking he wasn't good enough.

 

"I can't let him see me," he ventures then, sighing out.

 

Zayn puts his paintbrush down and twists in his seat, gesturing Louis to come closer. When he does, Zayn hugs him tightly.

 

"You need to let someone in, Lou. This could be the guy, you know? Or he might find you someone, at least..."

 

Louis lets a smile flash over his lips.

 

"Have you seen his picture, Zayn?" He murmurs. "Harry Styles is not the guy to break this spell," he muses. "But you're right. He might be the guy who finds someone willing to try me."

 

"You're not fucking awful, Louis," Zayn said as he pulls out of the hug. "Anyone would be lucky to have you."

 

Louis only wishes his heart believed him.

 

//

 

Louis attaches the only picture of Harry he has to his phone contact- the picture from Smooth Radio website of him leaning over the desk, smiling; short hair curly and touchable.

 

Dana sent him emails about the forms he had to sign, details of times and travel arrangements which had been made for him and Louis was still wondering how to find a stand-in or disguise himself enough that Harry might not notice how pathetic he is.

 

He wore the clothes Zayn gave him- tight jeans and a band tee-shirt with the sleeves rolled up - _to show off his guns, he said_. Louis had shrugged on a jacket, anyway, sliding his feet into vans.

 

The studio was less than half an hour away and he sighed a lot during the ride, fiddling with his fringe and running fisted knuckles over his beard.

 

He almost wore a hoodie or a beanie but he decided in the end that whoever is going to try dating him has to see him for his true self, in all his ugly glory. No point hiding.

 

The studio is tiny, just a few rooms in a small building with parts rented out to other professional businesses. Louis feels completely trapped the moment he steps inside.

 

"You must be Louis!" A lady with long dark hair and kind brown eyes smiles at him, bustling by with a clipboard.

 

"I am," he nods, hands still stuck in his jacket pockets.

 

He pulls one out to shake her offered one.

 

"Follow me..."

 

Louis walks down a corridor to a room with light-up sign with 'On air' and 'Off air' written on it. The light was green and set to 'off air' and he wonders if he will get time to talk to Harry before the show starts.

 

He's an hour early as requested but he assumed he'd be taken to a guest area and left to his own devices until he was called. He shrugs into himself a bit when Dana knocks on the door to the sound-proofed room and sticks her head inside.

 

"Harry, Louis' here."

 

She turns back to smile at Louis, widening the door.

 

"In you go..."

 

Louis shuffles into the room and looks around; seeing glass windows and recognising a split in the room. On the nearest side there is a bank of switches and seats around for people to sit in, papers laid out and a mess of activity which Louis hadn't seen, evidenced by stray coffee-cups and half-eaten plates of food.

 

On the other side of the glass was a tiny booth with a laptop on the desk and a microphone, headphones hung up.

 

Louis' eyes fall to the man folded into a low sofa, though, a man he recognises from the singular picture he has seen.

 

Harry stands up, laying his plate and cup to one side as he leans toward him to shake his hand.

 

"Louis, hiiii..."

 

His smile is blinding, taking over nearly all of his face. His eyes are a beautiful greeny colour; intent on his face which makes Louis want to duck his chin and makes him regret not hiding.

 

He manages to get his hand to leave his pocket, albeit a little shaky as they connect and Harry's face softens from the professional grin into something more intimate.

 

"You don't need to be nervous," he says, as if that will solve all of Louis' problems. "We'll get you warmed up."

 

Louis' eyes darted to his, alarm showing in them which apparently makes Harry laugh since he's cackling quite openly now.

 

"For the show," Harry adds quickly with a smirk, his eyes dipping and then returning to Louis' slowly; something hazy in them this time.

 

Louis nods, swallowing hard. His tongue is stuck again, his mouth dry.

 

"Would you like a drink?"

 

Louis nods once more.

 

"Tea? Coffee?"

 

"Tea, please," he forces the words out of his throat and they sound husky and high-pitched.

 

Harry smiles though, loping over to the small counter set into the side of the studio wall, to put the kettle on.

 

"So," Harry hitches his hip on the counter and Louis' eyes flick over him.

 

He doesn't have shoes on, is wearing blue jeans and socks but he spots a pair of dark brown suede boots by the sofa which he assumes Harry had kicked off. Over his jeans he wears a multi-coloured striped jumper that seems to fit his colourful personality.

 

Louis lifts his chin at the prompt.

 

"I'm going to do a piece on confidence tonight," Harry tells him. "And talk about the stereotypes for men," he adds. "I hoped you might be able to tell me a bit more about your issues."

 

Louis blinks. Harry is _looking_ at him. Couldn't he _see_?

 

"Can't you see?" He breathes, heart throbbing.

 

Harry gives him a funny smile.

 

"See what?"

 

Louis frowns, looking down himself. His too-thin torso, his too-fat thighs.

 

"I'm not-"

 

"Wait," Harry puts a hand up, twisting to pour hot water into a cup where he's placed a tea-bag gently. "Don't finish that sentence," he begs.

 

Louis stares at him, confused and frightened.

 

Harry finishes making his drink and walks toward the sofa, plopping down into it and putting the tea on the coffee-table.

 

"Sit," he tells Louis, gesturing to the seat beside him.

 

Louis obediently walks around the table and sits beside Harry, watching him pick up his own drink to sip on.

 

"Why do you think you're _not_ anything?" Harry asks then.

 

"My ex," he admits painfully, swallowing. "He told me a few things that made me realise...I'm just not-you know," he shrugs. " _All that_ ," he whispers brokenly after.

 

Harry stills beside him, his hand eventually moving to slide his drink onto the table. He doesn't want Harry to compliment him or tell him some lie to make him feel better. He wants to just answer the questions for the show and run home and hide, never to venture out from under his duvet again.

 

Harry's face is beautiful, though. He can't help looking at him. Staring, really. He has curly lashes and beautiful wide, bright eyes. his skin glows with youth and health and his lips are plump and bowed; probably perfect for kissing. Not that Louis would know. Kissing was something he had given up the day he'd been kidnapped from Callum.

 

"Louis if you've suffered from emotional abuse then-"

 

"It's not abuse if it's true," he cuts in, a dark smile forcing onto his lips, eyes glittering.

 

He dips his gaze, his lashes flattening to his cheeks.

 

"It's _not_ true, though," Harry murmurs quietly and Louis is about to look up again when a knock sounds on the door.

 

Dana's head appears.

 

"Sorry H. Need you to get in the seat," she tells him and he checks his watch, getting up.

 

"I'm starting now but," Harry swallows. "You don't have to go on air if you don't want to. I mean, under the circumstances..."

 

Louis realises with a sinking feeling that he's ruined his chance to impress Harry. To talk about his feelings and maybe help others out there. His cheeks burn with mortification.

 

"You're right," he grits out. "I'm probably a liability."

 

Harry moves to block Louis from getting up.

 

"Stay," he begs softly. "Please. We can talk after. You can watch me if you like?"

 

Louis flicks his eyes to the little booth and thinks how it would be nice to see Harry working; watch him acting out the words he's so used to hearing in that lovely deep voice of his.

 

"Okay," he relaxes back into the sofa.

 

"Don't go anywhere, okay?" Harry tells him.

 

Louis nods and sips his tea.

 

//

 

They're cross-legged knee to knee on the sofa tucking into take-away and it's 2am. Harry's show finished an hour ago but they were talking before they decided to get food. Dana went home and left the keys with Harry and Harry is-

 

He's beautiful and silly at this hour; leaning his back over the arm rest to slurp up noodles with giggles and his socked feet kicking out. They inadvertently knock Louis in their quest to be free; Harry's legs settling either side of him and Louis counts it as a win that Harry doesn't apologise for kicking him.

 

Harry's strangely open with him; soft and sweet and smiling. Of course Louis doesn't know if Harry is like this with _everyone_ because he doesn't know him well enough to say and the idea that everyone gets to see this Harry sends a cold reminder through him. He stiffens and his smile disappears.

 

"Bad chow mein?" Harry asks.

 

Louis puts the take-out box to one side.

 

"Not hungry anymore," he says.

 

"You have nice eyelashes."

 

"What?" Louis flicks his eyes from the coffee-table to the long-legged, long-bodied man before him.

 

"Your eyelashes," Harry repeats. "They're nice."

 

Louis frowns into his lap, fingers fiddling with the cuffs of his jeans. He took off his vans some time ago.

 

"I guess so."

 

"You're actually kind of gorgeous."

 

Harry's boldness makes something ache in Louis' chest. A distant memory, perhaps of his own cheekiness that was once prominent.

 

"I'm really not but thank you for trying to make me feel better."

 

"I'm not trying to make you feel better," Harry sputters, knees bending to press into Louis' arms a bit, bouncing gently.

 

Louis looks at him. _Then what is he trying to do?_

 

"I mean it," Harry tells him, throat bobbing. "You're kinda gorgeous."

 

His voice has lowered and feels alive against Louis' skin. It feels _real_.

 

"I don't care what your ex said," Harry adds as Louis remains quiet. "He was clearly some psycho who wanted to put you down and-"

 

Louis twitches, shifting his shoulders to stop Harry's knees brushing him.

 

"He wasn't a psycho," he says defensively.

 

"But he told you lies, Louis."

 

"Was it a lie?" Louis asks, looking straight into a pair of soft green eyes. "Who wants me? Maybe he was right."

 

"You wouldn't even know if anyone wanted you because you block it out," Harry tells him carefully. "He's made you disregard any nice thing that anyone has to say and-"

 

Louis twists and scrambles to get up from the sofa, jamming his feet into his Vans.

 

"Louis..."

 

Harry gets up and follows him to the door as he rushes to get out, to-

 

"Don't go," Harry's voice begs from behind but he doesn't try and stop him.

 

And so Louis runs.

 

//

 

 _I'm sorry_.

 

The text comes at 6am; when Louis should be sleeping but he's getting ready for his day of work at  the library. He's worked there for ten years and he's nearly thirty so he knows he ought to pursue a literary job or something in editing, but he's happy there. It's quiet and he likes it. He likes the people. They like him, too, seeking him out for his latest recommendations on what to read that he's come about either by selecting the book himself or happening across it whilst tidying up or documenting the stock.

 

He sighs, pocketing his phone.

 

Harry has nothing to be sorry for. Technically he didn't do anything wrong. This is all Louis' fault and it's up to him to make things right.

 

He's already contacted one of the counsellors from the list on Harry's website and he's had two sessions so far; so it's early days. But Harry is maybe right about what he said about Callum.  Which meant-

 

Louis sucks in a breath.

 

Even if Louis doesn't himself think he's attractive, it's possible that Harry really _does_. And he can disregard his opinion- Louis knows he has a habit of doing so- but that doesn't change it. Harry still thinks he has nice eyelashes and-

 

His phone buzzes.

 

_Couldn't believe the guy who showed up saying he was ugly was breathtakingly handsome._

 

Louis gulps, looks around to see if anyone is watching and feels his phone vibrate again in his hand.

 

_I shouldn't have dissed your relationship. I truly am sorry._

_It's okay_ , Louis types back, hand shaking. He presses send before he can change his mind.

 

Five seconds later his phones is buzzing and his screen is filled with the photo of Harry he has saved, sweet dimpled smile on his face.

 

"Hi," he answers a bit breathless, starting a walk into a hidden part of the library.

 

"Hi!" Harry greets, equally bright and cheerful but perhaps a tiny bit forced this time. "How are you?"

 

Louis smiles despite himself.

 

"Feeling a bit sheepish," he admits.

 

He hears Harry swallow.

 

"So, I was a dick last time..."

 

"You really weren't," Louis allows. "It was actually me who was the dick."

 

Louis hears cars and wonders if Harry is outside the studio.

 

"Want to make it up to me?" Harry asks.

 

Louis chuckles.

 

"What did you have in mind?"

 

"My house. Dinner. My sofa. More laughing if that's okay with you."

 

"You're making me dinner when I'm the one in the wrong?"

 

"I'm not sure what your sofa is like," Harry counters.

 

Louis imagines Harry's sofa is threadbare with broken springs if the one at the studio is anything to go by.

 

"It's nice," Louis tells him. "Besides, one radio gig cannot pay enough for you to afford a nice sofa..."

 

"Heyy," Harry complains loudly with a chuckle of his own, then, "Actually I'm a student, still. The radio gig is to help with my media course."

 

Louis' heart plummets because;

 

"How old are you?" He asks suddenly, fear paralysing him. He's twenty-eight and he knew Harry looked _young_ but-

 

"I'm eighteen."

 

 _Fuck_.

 

"Fuck." He sighs, out loud.

 

"Does it matter?" Harry adds in challenge.

 

Louis closes his eyes and lets the warmth of Harry's voice wash over him. Maybe they can just be friends. It's not like Harry had mentioned more anyway. And Louis--Louis will not let an eighteen year old waste precious time on him, ten years their senior.

 

"It does if we have to share your sofa with your room-mate," Louis quips.

 

Harry laughs at that and Louis feels the warmth in his chest bloom.

 

"Then I'm coming to yours?" He checks.

 

"I'll message you my address." Louis assures.

 

//

 

"How on earth can you be classed as an expert on love at eighteen?"

 

Harry has barely stepped through Louis' front door, following him down a hallway into an open kitchen-living area which is bright and coloured yellow and green on the kitchen side, more blue-green towards the living space.

 

Louis has a huge, deep, cosy-looking sofa and a home cinema system to make most guys jealous. Harry's jealous.

 

"Why not?" Harry shrugs. "It's not like I'm pretending to know everything. I'm just talking to people about their problems."

 

"So one of your other subjects is psychology?" Louis guesses.

 

Harry smiles, lifting his hands in surrender.

 

Louis gestures him to sit at the breakfast bar on one of the stools.

 

"Drink?"

 

"Just juice," Harry selects and Louis slides him a rueful smirk.

 

"Tee-total?"

 

"Maybe. Not all students are alcohol-addicted," he adds.

 

Louis' eyes shutter at the reminder of his age. Harry grits his teeth.

 

Louis looks incredible in long denim shorts and a sports jacket zipped up over an undershirt of some kind. He kind of hopes he might get to see it later, but Louis seems a bit self-conscious and Harry just wants to strip him bare, really.

 

Not something he should be imagining really, sat here in his kitchen while he goes about checking a pre-started dinner casserole but still, Harry hasn't really managed to think straight since the moment he set eyes on Louis, why would now be any different?

 

"We're also not all innocent little boys," he adds lowly, quietly, because he wants to make sure Louis' hears but he doesn't want to be too obvious.

 

Louis flicks him a glance.

 

"Well, you're a good looking guy, I'd expect you to attract a lot of admirers," Louis comments, much to Harry's indignation.

 

"That doesn't mean I sleep around," he argues. "Just that I'm you know...I can hold my own in bed, that's all."

 

Louis licks his lips, delivers Harry's juice and struggles to hop onto one of the high seats; feet dangling cutely when he finally does make it up.

 

Harry hasn't asked Louis how old he is, he honestly doesn't care. He stares at the side of his face and sips his drink, waiting for dinner to be cooked so they can chill out on the sofa again like before, relaxed and happy. He liked seeing Louis like that, smiling and not thinking about his every move.

 

"So you like Hawaiian shirts," Louis ventures, twisting to flick his eyes over the soft yellow-print of Harry's chosen shirt.

 

Harry smiles, slips the sunglasses from where they were propped in his hair and rests them on the table top.

 

"It's warm outside, why not," he says.

 

"We can sit on the patio if you want."

 

"I'm good," Harry assures. "It's nice in here."

 

Louis looks around.

 

"I'm just a simple librarian, really, I don't have all the-"

 

"You work in the library?" Harry interrupts.

 

Louis nods.

 

"But I-I've never seen you..."

 

"I hide mostly," Louis admits shyly. "I let the others serve."

 

A dig forms above Harry's brow.

 

"I started using the Uni library because it was closer."

 

Louis grins at him then, spontaneous and unguarded.

 

"Where's the loyalty, Harry? Hm? I put out all those books for you and you just-"

 

Harry melts into a giggle; cackling as Louis pokes him in the middle.

 

"The county will sack me for not providing for the University students properly," Louis teased. "Heartless turncoat..."

 

Harry grabs his poking finger in a gentle but firm hand, bending it away from his body.

 

"Stop poking me! It's not my fault the campus library is a five minute walk compared to half a mile to yours..."

 

Their hands argue for a moment as Louis tries to tickle him and Harry blocks both hands expertly with a flushed smile and it's only when they're teetering on the edge of their seats; Louis leaning in close that he realises. And remembers.

 

Harry's far too young to be entertaining any ideas of _more_.

 

His laughter evaporates and he pulls his hands back; awkwardly dislodging Harry's hold on him until Harry realises, too and lets his grip fade away. Harry clears his throat as Louis slips off his stool to fetch the casserole.

 

Time to eat.

 

//

 

"I can't believe you suggested that as an idea for my show!"

 

Harry's legs are bent in front of him, ankles crossed as he laughs.

 

"What's wrong with it?" Louis purses his lips, fighting back a grin, snorting at the mirth shown in Harry's face.

 

"I know we talk about medical issues but Viagra is not something we promote."

 

"You should!" Louis counters happily. "You're missing out."

 

"Why, do you need it, Lou?" Harry teases with a dimpled smirk. "Getting to that age?"

 

"You little-"

 

Louis lunges for him, but Harry's folded legs are a barrier and he has to press them down to launch his body on top of Harry's in an ill-thought-out gesture of entrapment. He falls awkwardly, head-butting Harry's cheek and laughing breathily into his jaw as they wrestle. Harry twists and somehow grasps Louis' wrists to gain the advantage, turning them so he is pressing Louis into the sofa while kneeling above him.

 

Louis is laughing too hard to notice at first; smile slipping from his lips as Harry presses his wrists more meaningfully into the sofa-cushion, long body laying down on his.

 

"Not so funny now, is it?" Harry murmurs, throat bobbing.

 

Harry feels Louis' legs shift where they're trapped between his own, alternating with his. He feels the way his breathing spikes; watches his lips part and his tongue flicker out to wet those lips. His eyes follow the movement and trace over his face.

 

"Did I tell you that you're gorgeous?"

 

Louis' breath hitches.

 

"Hmm," Harry smiles, grinding against him a bit. "I think I did."

 

"H-"

 

Louis doesn't get to deny Harry his intention because it's just too easy for Harry to tilt his head and suckle his lips, wet and open in invitation; however silent. If Harry had doubted Louis' reciprocation, it would have been confirmed in that moment when Louis goes stiff at first, followed by a weakened sound in his throat and softening of his body; their kiss lengthening as a result of Louis' surrender.

 

Harry feels Louis' leg curl around his; foot sliding up his calf as he flicks his tongue into Louis' mouth and lets go of his wrists only to curl his arms around him to bring him closer if possible.

 

"We can't," Louis rips his mouth away with a gasp of reluctant control.

 

Harry stills above him but slowly shifts, kneeling up and then settling back into a sitting position. Beside him, Louis' cheeks are flushed and he unzips his jacket; muscular arms displayed in a  sleeveless vest-top with 'Skate Tough' written on it.

 

"Bit old for that vest aren't you," he huffs, sulkily.

 

Louis swallows, eyes flicking to him.

 

"Yeah, you're probably right. But Harry-"

 

"Please don't," Harry's face creases and he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He can't look at Louis right now, his body is far to wired-up to cope. "Don't make this about my age or yours," he begs. "We both know it's not about that."

 

"I'm _twenty-eight_ ," Louis enunciates. "Doesn't that mean anything to you? I'm fucking riddled with adult depression and you should be-"

 

" _Off having fun with my peers_ ," Harry mocks derisively.

 

He doesn't want to leave but he stands up. He runs a hand through his short, wavy hair and turns, face creasing.

 

"That's probably the best kiss I've ever shared with anyone," he states. "Just so you know."

 

Louis watches him walk all the way down the hall and doesn't stop him when he opens the front door and walks out.

 

//

 

 

_We have a limited edition of Beauty and The Beast just in._

Louis has no idea if Harry even likes Disney. He'd listened to his show the other night and he'd tried to find a hint of how he was feeling but nothing showed past the glossy host veneer he presented so flawlessly.

 

Louis still doesn't quite get what Harry wants from him. What he _thinks_ he's getting. He isn't sure he should ask either, but he misses him. He wants to at least be friends with Harry if nothing else.

 

Harry: _Let me guess; you're the Beast?_

 

Louis breathes  a sigh of relief. It might be biting, but it's a reply.

 

Louis: _I'm not Beauty am I?! Clearly that's you..._

Harry: _What time do you close?_

 

It's like lightening surges into his whole body with no means to escape, setting his nerve endings alight and filing him with ridiculous, unbridled hope.

 

Louis: _Not till ten._

 

Harry: _Don't hide, then. I'm coming._

 

Louis reads the message three times, then dashes for the staff toilet to tidy his hair.

 

//

 

 

Why Louis bothers trying to read to him, he isn't sure. It seems like a good thing to do, the _proper_ thing.

 

Harry frames an arm over him in an arc though; and nestles him against the book-shelf, breathing in his hair.

 

"You smell like sunshine," he says.

 

Louis swallows, clutching the book for safety. Harry lifts his free hand and smirks, prizing the book from his fingers.

 

"Heard enough of Beauty and the Beast for one day thanks, Lou..."

 

Louis presses his lips together and opens them to release a breath. He keeps his gaze on Harry's chest, another striped jumper worn over his favourite blue jeans and brown boots. A black and white one this time.

 

"Are you really that bothered about my age?"

 

Gentle fingers slid onto his jaw, tilting his face up, Harry's thumb brushing over his cheek. His eyes travel over Louis' face, fastening on his eyes.

 

"You look more gorgeous today than usual, by the way."

 

Louis flicks his fringe away gently.

 

"I shaved," he whispers.

 

Harry ducks his head, a smile curving his lips almost like he's won.

 

"Hmm?" He brushes his lips against Louis' cheek. "What did you say?"

 

"I normally have a beard but I-"

 

"Oh, that's right," Harry feigns surprise, brow arching as he smirks. His thumb brushes over the smoothness of Louis' cheek. "Was that for me?"

 

Louis shrugs, a smile flirting at the edges of his mouth. He might as well play Harry's game since it was a game he wants to be a part of despite the small voice in his head which tells him this is wrong.

 

"Thought it made me look younger..."

 

Harry huffs out a breath, half laugh, half relief.

 

"Yeah?"

 

Louis purses his lips.

 

"You saying I look old?"

 

Harry grins, dimples appearing as he leans closer.

 

"Harry," he whispers, swallowing. "Are you sure about this?"

 

Harry's arm slips around his waist as their lips mesh; a familiar rush of excitement bursting through his veins.

 

Louis tries to push onto the tips of his toes but Harry's arm hauls him up effortlessly; the kiss deepening when Louis takes the initiative to lick into Harry's mouth. It earns him a low-growled groan and Harry's knee pressing between his, pinning him to the rack helplessly.

 

"Louis, did you-"

 

Louis breaks the kiss with a frantic gasp, cheeks burning as he meets the gaze of his co-worker, a sassy girl named Perrie.

 

"Oh. I guess you didn't. Sorry about that. I'll um-"

 

"This is Harry," Louis blurts as Harry angles his face slightly away from the intruder, arm still over Louis' head.

 

At the indication of introduction though, he turns and smiles, passing Louis an unreadable look.

 

"Hiii," he beams. "So nice to meet you."

 

"Didn't know Louis had a boyfriend," Perrie pronounces in her Geordie accent. "Cute one too. You go to the Uni, don't you?"

 

Harry nods with a bland smile.

 

"I should be getting back there right now," he adds, twisting to look at Louis awkwardly. "See you later?"

 

Louis looks confused and a little bit disappointed but Harry tries to reason it isn't due to him leaving.

 

"Oh. Of course. Yeah, later," Louis nods.

 

Harry slips by Perrie and gives Louis a long look before disappearing around the corner.

 

Louis gives Perrie a bright, innocent smile.

 

"Don't try and wriggle out of that one," she warns.

 

He sighs and follows her back to the counter.

 

//

 

"I know what you're going to say, Pez..." Louis follows his colleague behind the serving desk to sigh.

 

Perrie turns, hands on her shapely hips. They have to wear a shirt and trousers or a skirt as their uniform but hers somehow fits so much better than Louis'. His thin frame doesn't fill out the shirt in the pectoral area like it should and his trousers cling to his thick thighs.

 

"Do you even know what you're doing, Louis?" Is what she asks and that pauses him, bringing him up short.

 

"I-."

 

Perrie stares at him.

 

"You're still half-cut about your shitty ex," she whispers, glancing about before hissing out the swear-word.

 

Louis swallows. He is, she's right. As much as he enjoys his time with Harry, he hasn't _completely_ gotten over his emotional scars from his past relationship.

 

"You're right." He nods, kind of relieved that someone has a good reason for him to end this before it starts, someone who's only got his best interests at heart.

 

"You thought I was going to tell you he's too young," she guesses easily after serving a customer.

 

Louis manages a wan smile.

 

"The thought crossed my mind."

 

"He might hurt you, Lou," is what she says instead. "Maybe not intentionally but we both know you have issues."

 

 _Issues_. Yes. He has issues. _Lots of them_. Too many for a beautiful, bright soul like Harry. His issues would extinguish his spark eventually and he couldn't live with himself when that happened.

 

If only Harry would stop kissing him then he might even stand half a chance.

 

"I'll talk to him," he promises Perrie, forcing his shaky voice to come out steady. "You're right, it's not fair on Harry."

 

She tilts her head, a sad tilt to her mouth.

 

"I didn't tell you to sabotage it," she begs. "I'm just saying-"

 

"What you're saying is right," he nods, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin. "It's not fair to drag Harry into my issues."

 

"Louis-" Perrie begins but he doesn't wait to find out the rest of what she had to say.

 

//

 

_So thing is. I'm not in a good place right now. Maybe ever. I'm not good for you, Harry. I'm sorry._

 

Harry is laid on his back on his bed reading an online article for research when he gets Louis' message. He clicks his tongue against his teeth.

 

"Hey, Irish," he calls out.

 

"Hm?" A lazy murmur comes from the other bed in the room. His room-mate Niall is pretending to sleep. Harry keeps waking him up by playing songs and dancing around the room to them between bouts of study.

 

"I've met this guy."

 

Niall snorts in his semi-consciousness.

 

"You've met a lot of guys."

 

"Shut up, dickhead," he complains, then. "I've met a guy I want to date," he amends.

 

Niall has the decency to roll over.

 

"And?"

 

"He thinks he's too old for me."

 

"How old is he?" Niall mumbles.

 

"Twenty eight," Harry admits.

 

Niall's eyes open.

 

"Fuck, that's _old_."

 

Harry rolls his eyes and sighs.

 

"It doesn't matter, not really. Apart from the fact he thinks he's not right for me."

 

"Maybe he isn't?" Niall supplies unhelpfully. "Maybe he's got a point."

 

Harry blinks, lets his hand drop to his side with his phone curled in it. He sighs, a strange stinging pain emerging in his chest.

 

"I tried to help him at first but then-" He presses his lips together, thinking Niall has gone back to sleep.

 

"Then?" His friend prompts.

 

He looks over. Niall's sleepy blue eyes meet his.

 

"Then I liked him."

 

Niall yawns, turns his back to Harry and settles. Harry feels his heart throbbing in his chest and it hurts.

 

"Then talk to him," Niall says out of the blue, drawing Harry's gaze to his back. "Tell him."

 

"I've tried," Harry whispers, rolling into a sitting position.

 

"Try again," Niall replies. "I got Sarah to go out with me after the sixth time of asking, I'm the king of persistence."

 

Harry curls on his side on the bed, phone pressed close to his chest.

 

"Persistence," he echoes, closing his eyes.

 

//

 

Nobody ever knocks on Louis' door. Except maybe the religious enthusiasts or someone collecting for charity.

 

He gets up, yawning and sleepily rubbing his eye, glancing down at his grey joggers and tee combo. He jams his fingers into his hair to rough-comb it and swings open the door with a tired smile.

 

"Hi."

 

Harry Styles is stood there, looking unbelievably breath-taking in a tailored long coat and his usual jeans and boots. Louis can't see which jumper he is wearing under the coat.

 

He's lost the ability to speak again.

 

"Er, hi," he manages after clearing his throat and unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

 

He thought his text had done the job. Harry hadn't replied and it felt like he'd successfully ended anything before it had even started. He'd bear his own pain of course, from losing someone who already meant quite a lot to him but. He was adamant Harry wouldn't be a victim of his dark shadow.

 

Harry's feet shuffle and he leans forward.

 

"Can I come in?"

 

There's  a furrow between his brows, uncertainty painted on his face and Louis feels like the shittiest person on earth, he really does. He lifts his eyebrows, stepping onto the porch and pulling the door up loosely behind him.

 

"Harry...what are you doing here?" He asks, ignoring the blinding pain erupting in his chest; digging his shaking hands into his track bottoms.

 

"I wanted to-" Harry swallows, gaze dropping to the wooden boards of the veranda, then lifting back to study Louis' face.

 

He looks older than eighteen. His face creases, eyes hollow.

 

"You really don't want this, do you?" He asks.

 

Louis flicks his eyes away, knowing he can't push a lie past his already wadded throat.

 

"It's not a good idea," he states. Because it's _not_. It never had been a good idea. The fact that Louis allowed himself to indulge in the pleasure of kissing him is irrespective.

 

Harry's head tilts and his expression changes, a challenging kind of bitter smile hanging on his lips.

 

He takes a step back and Louis' face lifts then to look at him.

 

"You're right," Harry says, but the look on his face says anything but. "If you're not into it then there's no point."

 

He takes another step back and turns, making his way towards the steps that lead down to the front path. He pauses at the top.

 

"See you around, Louis."

 

Louis closes his eyes so he doesn't have to watch him go.

 

//

 

"What's wrong with you, then?" Zayn pokes Louis' thigh with a toe as he carries in the takeaway they've just had delivered.

 

"Nothing," Louis frowns at his friend. "Everything is fine."

 

"How did it go with the radio show?" Zayn asks, because he knows and Louis thinks he secretly likes to torture him.

 

"I told you. It didn't work out."

 

"You told me you'd kissed Harry and then ended it."

 

"Exactly," Louis breathes out, not reaching for the plate of food Zayn is diligently filling like he usually would in this situation.

 

His stomach feels knotted and full.

 

Zayn bites his lip, twisting in his seat.

 

"It doesn't matter that he's a bit younger, you know."

 

"He's not a _bit_ younger, Zayn. He's _eighteen_. That's a _lot_ younger. Fuck, he deserves to be dating the Uni football hero not some fucked up dickhead who works at the library..."

 

"You got the dickhead part right," Zayn mumbles and Louis reaches out to punch him gently on the arm.

 

"It wasn't fair on him." Louis swallows, because he's still not sure he believes the sentiment fully.

 

Zayn watches him with careful brown eyes, eventually nodding and turning back to finish splitting the food.

 

//

 

"Smooth Radio Love Hour..." Harry smiles so the warmth bleeds into his voice. He doesn't particularly feel like smiling but needs must. "Harry Styles here for the next hour to talk about your love problems..."

 

The irony of offering to help other people with their love-lives when he can barely manage his own isn't lost.

 

He checks his laptop, looks up to Dana and she's waving madly for him to take the first call.

 

"Getting straight to the calls this evening," he tells his audience. "Who have I got on line one?"

 

"I'm Zayn," the voice says, smooth and a bit husky.

 

"Hi Zayn," Harry greets. "And how can I help you?"

 

"I've got this friend-"

 

"Oh, we've all got one of _those_ friends," Harry teases.

 

Zayn huffs.

 

"No, he is _actually_ my friend. And he's like--self destructive, you know? He like-finds someone he likes and who likes him and it's just like, too much for him to believe. He doesn't think he can make someone happy and-"

 

Harry frowns, wondering for one tiny second if-

 

"What makes him think that?" Harry asks.

 

He hears Zayn sigh.

 

"This guy he was seeing. He told him nobody else would want him. That he's not good enough for anyone."

 

"That's very sad to hear," Harry's voice lowers to effuse his sympathy. "So you're question is, what can you do to help?"

 

"Kind of," Zayn sighs again. "I mean, like, it's _you_ ," he states bravely. "It's you that he likes."

 

Harry is momentarily speechless, eyes glancing to the divide to see Dana's reaction. She has two thumbs up. She _knew_. She knew this caller was talking about Louis and yet-

 

"Well I think in any scenario where someone has had a difficult time it's up to _both_ people in the new relationship to work through things together. One person shouldn't make the decisions for the other person or-"

 

"It's not that easy," Zayn exasperates. "We had to go in there and rescue him. He was so far under his spell and--you just don't get it," his voice sounded weary and broken. "It was so hard to get him out."

 

Harry plays a bit of the theme music to cover his thoughts.

 

"Then you need time," Harry counselled lightly, biting his lip. "Time and lots of love. Does he have that?"

 

"I don't know," Zayn asks. "Does he?"

 

"We're going to cut to a classic love song now before we take the next call, here's Dolly Parton singing 'I will always love you'..."

 

Harry can hear Zayn breathing on the other end of the still connected call.

 

"Zayn?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Where is he?"

 

Zayn gives Harry directions to the outlook; a piece of land where people go to watch the sunset, usually to make out or have sex in their cars. He hopes Louis isn't planning either of those things. He hopes he isn't planning on throwing himself over the edge into the cavern, although Louis has never expressed suicidal tendencies before, one can never be too sure.

 

//

 

He takes a taxi, finds Louis' car by the description Zayn gave him. It's twilight and his is the only car out there anyway in the dark.

 

Harry knocks on his window and Louis jumps a mile. Harry smiles hopefully.

 

Louis pops his door and Harry steps back to let him climb out, turning toward the darkened skyline and resting his bum on the hood of the Ford.

 

"Beautiful night," he comments.

 

"Zayn had no right to call you," Louis says and Harry turns to look at him; all hunched up with his hands tucked into his denim jacket pockets.

 

He reaches out and coaxes Louis' hand from his pocket to pull him over, settling Louis between his thighs, chin propped on his shoulder from behind and arms wrapping around him.

 

"Can you tell me what really happened?" Harry asks.

 

Louis tenses and pushes against Harry's hold slightly, then seems to give in with a sag.

 

"I had an intervention," he whispers. "My friends and family finally worked out what was going on so they came for me. In numbers. My ex had to let me go, he didn't have a choice."

 

"But you didn't want to," Harry deduces.

 

Louis' back presses to his chest, he leans into the car.

 

"Not at first. Because I thought he was all I had. He'd made me think-" Louis breaks off with a shake of his head. "He made me think a lot of things which weren't true."

 

Harry releases one arm to gently brush back his fringe. Louis turns into him a bit.

 

"Like how you're not really ugly?" Harry ventures.

 

Louis squirms though, because he still hasn't quite learned not to believe that lie.

 

"Like how you're actually quite gorgeous but you won't let anyone tell you that and instead you push them away?"

 

Louis turns almost sideways and presses his cheek into Harry's throat with a swallow. Harry's arms band around him, tight and secure.

 

"I like kissing you," Louis says.

 

Harry lets a smile ghost his lips.

 

"Me too."

 

"But Perrie was right. I'm not ready for this because I can't let anyone in, I don't trust easily and I'd hurt you," he whispers pleadingly against Harry's collarbones. "You're so incredible Harry and you shouldn't be hurt."

 

"What if I already hurt?"

 

His voice is thick with emotion and Louis looks up to see the wetness of tears shining in his eyes.

 

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Louis' face pales and he pulls away.

 

"No, not this time," Harry stands and curls him back close; ignoring Louis' signs of escape. "You don't get to run away from me."

 

Louis' fists against his chest weaken and he sags once more, breaths soaked into his jumper.

 

"Why are you doing this?" Louis whispers.

 

Harry swallows, rubbing his back; stroking through the back of his hair.

 

"Because the guy I saw...the guy you let me get a glimpse of before you shut me out? That's a guy I could fall for," Harry shares softly. "That's a guy I want to wait to be with."

 

Louis' hands are scrabbling for purchase against his chest and Harry's about to take his wrists again to soothe him but those hands curl around his neck as an anchor for Louis to tiptoe; a shaky kiss smeared into Harry's lips.

 

He bends to reciprocate but he lets Louis lead the kiss; soft and oh-so achingly real. The tenderness in the way Louis kisses him swirls in his belly in a wanting way; making him ache and moan in his throat for what else Louis could do him, gently, as though they have all day.

 

Harry's been lucky to have had equal relationships but everything at his age is so hard and fast, he hasn't understood how it feels to take his time before, to really enjoy the simplicity of kissing for example with nothing else to turn him on and yet with Louis; he's more interested than he's ever been.

 

His hand curves around Louis' behind as if to seek the justice he feels he deserves; Louis' little whimper and sigh almost finishing him there and then.

 

"Lou," he breathes, lips smudging over his jaw as they break for air.

 

" _Shit_ ," he hears Louis hiss, two seconds before another voice joins the fray.

 

"Good evening gentlemen..."

 

Harry straightens up slowly, arms loosening from Louis' middle. He turns to smile innocently at the two police officers pointing torches into their faces simultaneously.

 

"Um. Hi," he greets with a sheepish smile.

 

"And what's going on here then?" The second officer blinds Harry with his torch-beam.

 

"Nothing," he clears his throat. "Just, you know. A kiss."

 

"Looked like a bit more than a kiss," the first officer flashes his torch at Louis.

 

"We had a fight," he lies. _Kind of_. "Just making up," he adds, then frowns at his choice of words.

 

"Making out?" The second officer jumps on this and Harry can't help but laugh, bending into cackles.

 

"Fuck, Lou," he chuckles. "What a way with words."

 

Louis manages a small smile.

 

"We'll be off now," Louis offers helpfully.

 

The officer squints at them.

 

"We know what people get up to here. Don't let me find you again."

 

"Yes, sir," Harry nods solemnly and turns to get into the car.

 

//

 

Louis likes to kiss.

 

Harry discovers this when they're still at it an hour later; slotted together on their sides on his sofa; close and comfy.  He's reached out to squeeze Louis' ass, palm his thigh and run a firm palm up Louis' back to cup his neck. Louis' pressed into him; slid a thigh through his and curled a foot around his ankle and yet neither of them have moved things on.

 

He's eighteen but he's not innocent. But he's not sure if Louis is taking things slow for Harry's benefit or his own. And he doesn't mind. He's hard, for certain, but with Louis it's nice to just be hard and kiss and for it not to mean something else.

 

When his stomach grumbles he smiles sheepishly.

 

"Oops."

 

They stare at each other, eyes flicking to each other's swollen lips.

 

"How long have you been hungry?" Louis asks, fingers brushing through his short hair.

 

"Not long."

 

Louis remembers Harry eating before his show the last time he'd gone to the studio and feels less guilty.

 

"Come on, I can make you something," he murmurs, starting to untangle himself.

 

Harry tightens both legs around one of Louis' and strengthens his arms so that Louis is trapped.

 

"I can starve," he assures.

 

Louis presses his lips together, breath quickening as Harry brushes the back of one hand over his jeans; right in the spot where he's ridged and tight. Harry's leaned back to look, too, large eyes widening as he looks back to Louis.

 

"Gorgeous," Harry's lips quirk, fingers crawling over his hip to curve there, as if waiting for the signal to go ahead.

 

"I've got cake," Louis says, well blurts really.

 

He swallows and keeps Harry's gaze.

 

"You know I'm not some little boy? I'm not a doll?"

 

Louis leans back a bit more meaningfully and this time and Harry loosens his hold to let him.

 

"I disagree. You are most _definitely_ a doll," he teases of Harry's pretty-boy looks.

 

Louis manages to get to his feet, pausing before he turns for the kitchen.

 

"Is this-Are you alright with this?" He checks.

 

Harry nods and sits up, scrubbing his palms over his face.

 

"I'm just going to use your loo," he says before padding into the hallway.

 

//

 

Harry has figured out how far he can go with Louis before he retreats.

 

He can get his fingers underneath the band of his jumper- or his jeans- but he can only get three-quarters of his fingers onto Louis' skin before he curls up and rolls away, tugging his clothing back into place.

 

He's not sex-mad is the thing but he's _eighteen_. And maybe Louis was right, maybe their age _does_ matter and their libidos just don't match up.

 

He watches Louis pick up his discarded blue-striped jumper and fondle it in his small hands.

 

"You can wear it if you want," Harry tells him.

 

Louis ventures a look at him that is far too telling.

 

"You'll get cold," he lays the item gently down on the bed they'd been sharing; Harry's small double in the dorm. Niall is playing football and Harry is meant to be studying.

 

"Come to work with me?" Harry asks, rolling up to get ready. He pushes a hand through his hair and looks for another jumper.

 

Louis sneaks the one on the bed and Harry can't help smiling at him fondly as he watches the blue stripes disappear slowly off the edge. He gets caught watching and Louis smiles, too, rolling his eyes.

 

"Perrie already thinks you're my boyfriend, so."

 

He seems to want to justify wearing Harry's clothes. Harry is quite happy to donate a large portion of his wardrobe to the smaller man.

 

"Maybe I am." Harry says and it's the first time they've talked about it since they started kissing six weeks ago.

 

Louis gets up off the bed and looks at Harry with his beautiful blue gaze; those thick lashes narrowing slightly.

 

"Will you be?" Louis asks, afraid.

 

Harry smiles bemusedly.

 

"I told you, I already am."

 

"I thought-" Louis' gaze finds the floor and moves about.

 

The door bursts open in that moment; an energetic Niall on the other side of it.

 

"Fuckers!"

 

Harry snaps his gaze to his friend.

 

"You won then?"

 

"You must be Louis," Niall ignores Harry in favour of striding towards the petite brunette; landing a bear hug on him. "Nice to meet ya finally."

 

Louis smiles wanly.

 

"And you," he nods.

 

"So Harry's your toy boy is he?" Niall winks. "He's told me all about his Sugar-Daddy..."

 

"Ni," Harry makes a face and shakes his head.

 

Louis barks out a laugh.

 

"I've not got much sugar," he admits.

 

"I'm not talking about money," Niall waves a hand as he plonks himself on the edge of his bed. "Whatever candy Harry likes, you're giving it away..."

 

Louis arches a brow and looks towards his boyfriend. _Shit_. His _boyfriend_. Because that's a thing now. That's-

 

"He's not _giving it away_ ," Harry argues indignantly. "You make it sound tawdry ad it's not," he pouts.

 

Niall smirks, flicking his eyes to Louis.

 

"Do you see how gone for you he is? He's worse when you're not around, I swear..."

 

"We're leaving now," Harry states, walking around the bed to link his fingers though Louis'. "Say goodbye, Niall."

 

"Goodbye Niall," Niall cackles as Louis bids him a quiet farewell.

 

In the hall, Harry strides ahead and pulls Louis behind him, all long, tall edgy youngster. His favourite sunglasses- a pair that look like the ones in Willy Wonka- are perched in his hair. Louis feels old beside him, slower and more thoughtful about his tread; eyes glancing around to see if they're being judged, to see if anyone views him as a pervert for dating a teenager.

 

"We should go out more," Louis calls as they head for the car park.

 

Harry looks back at him and slows his step so Louis comes beside him. His fingers curl around Louis' hand a bit more.

 

"Yeah?"

 

Louis nods.

 

"I'll pay."

 

Harry roils his eyes.

 

"I can afford it, you know."

 

"I'm the Sugar-Daddy," he reminds gently. "Niall said as much."

 

Harry's face breaks into a slow grin, the kind that lights his eyes and pops his dimples.

 

"When are you taking me out then?" Harry asks as Louis unlocks the car.

 

They slide inside, settling with their seat-belts on.

 

"When are you free?" Louis wonders.

 

Harry reaches into his satchel to pull out an I-pad organiser. He swipes a few screens and hums.

 

"How about Friday?"

 

"Perfect," Louis answers, pulling out into the traffic.

 

//

 

Louis likes watching Harry work.

 

He likes hearing the problems that people call in with, likes measuring his own progress since he's started the self-esteem counselling.

 

He no longer feels like he doesn't deserve love. He no longer believes irrefutably that he's unattractive. He's not quite there yet, though. Just because he might think he deserves to be happy and that he's not completely ugly doesn't mean he's at ease with actively reinforcing those ideas. Baby steps.

 

But those steps- the tiny ones he's already made- have brought him to the sofa in Harry's studio. They've allowed him to open up his heart the tiniest crack to let Harry peek in. And he could sit here and watch him every night, giving out advice and helping people. It's lovely to see him in host-mode, all smooth and charming and in control.

 

Louis gets up from the sofa to watch him, hovering by the window.

 

"...and I know what you're saying, man but you can't let anyone treat you like that no matter how much you-" Harry pauses, eyes flicking to the silhouette in the window.

 

His breath catches and for one second he cannot breathe.

 

"No matter how much I what?" The caller asks.

 

Harry's eyes stay glued to his boyfriend who has decided to stare at him, apparently.

 

"No matter how much you love her," Harry finishes softly, smiling at his beau.

 

Louis smiles back, then makes a stupid face, making Harry giggle abruptly.

 

"I'm not laughing at you," Harry quickly assures his caller. "Sorry, just something--some _one_ ," he alters more lowly. "Is making me laugh."

 

"You're right, Harry, I can't let her walk all over me," his caller says and Harry hums along, lips twisting to stop his smile breaking free as Louis starts doing silly dance moves and gestures behind the glass.

 

"Well, good luck with that, my man. Up next is the chart-busting single from Bryan Adams- _Everything I do, I do it for you_..."

 

Harry's up on his feet in less than a second, pushing open the studio door to chase after Louis who scampers with a cry of delighted fear; his giggling body soon wrapped into Harry's arms.

 

"You-" Harry bites his shoulder gently where he's curved over his back. "Are so naughty..."

 

Louis's hands grasp his arm around his middle and he sags, smiling.

 

"I was bored."

 

"Find something else to do," Harry accuses, nosing along Louis' neck to find the perfect spot to kiss.

 

His lips are soft and warm and Louis shivers at the feel of them.

 

"Oh," Harry smirks against his skin. "You like having your neck kissed..."

 

Louis swallows.

 

"Not any more than the next person, it's not some weird fetish or-"

 

Harry licks out, closing his lips around a biting kiss.

 

Louis makes a noise in his throat and tries to turn in Harry's arms and Harry's all for it, really, awkwardly clambering for a surface to steady them against as they both teeter, imbalanced and half-standing from their little chase.

 

Louis smiles into his face, bum hitched onto the sound counter.

 

"The song's only five minutes long," he goads.

 

Harry's lips take his anyway; meshing them needily together.

 

"They can listen to silence for all I care..."

 

"Harry, ten seconds!" Dana opens the studio door to bark at him and he pulls away from Louis with a sigh.

 

"Okay, I'm going," he plods back to his seat like a petulant teen and Louis bites his lip, cheeks and chest flushed from their kiss-chase.

 

He settles his hair with his fingers and sits back on the sofa quietly, careful not to disturb Harry from his work.

 

//

 

Up until now, Harry hasn't let Louis suck him off. He hasn't let him undress him or do anything that he isn't willing for Harry to do to him first. It's an unwritten rule. Harry won't until Louis feels comfortable to do the same. He's resigned himself to the possibility of a long wait.

 

After the show he showers at Louis' and Louis gently blow-dries his hair on the semi-warm setting so as not to burn him. Louis steals his clothes for washing overnight and wraps Harry in a gown.

 

Harry's gaze flicks over him in his jeans and tee shirt.

 

"Can I negotiate a tops-off deal?"

 

He's sat on the end of the bed as Louis stands before him, just looking. Harry loves the way it feels, being the centre of Louis' attention.

 

Louis steps closer, breath held. He picks up Harry's hand and curls his fingers around the edge of his top. He doesn't say it's okay but the permission is there. Harry grasps the material and drags it up slightly, seeing Louis flinch but Louis grits his teeth; his belly muscles tightening.

 

And _oh_ , Harry didn't know...he'd _felt_ and he'd _imagined_ but...

 

He pulls the top right up, standing to carefully ease it over Louis' head, letting the cotton drop to the floor. And Louis is perfect, really. He has no idea why he feels inadequate in any way.

 

"You're so beautiful," he says.

 

Louis' arms curl in a bit to cover his chest.

 

"Bit skinny," he huffs, cheeks reddening as he looks everywhere but at Harry.

 

Harry steps back and sits back down.

 

"C'mere," he holds out  a hand for Louis to take.

 

Louis takes it and steps closer, knees sliding onto the bed beside Harry's thighs. Harry lets his hands slide up Louis' thighs to steady his weight. Then they slide onto his waist, thumbs brushing his toned belly.

 

"Can I kiss it?"

 

Louis gulps, eyes finally meeting Harry's. They're empty, full of destruction and bad memory. Harry shakes his head, leans up to kiss him soft and slow.

 

"What did he used to say?" He asks instead.

 

Louis presses shaky hands to Harry's shoulders.

 

"That my thighs are fat. That the rest of me is too skinny. He'd ask me how that was, how I could be so ugly..."

 

Harry's hand brushes over his shoulder, down his arm slowly. His fingertips read Braille from his collarbones.

 

"But you're so fucking beautiful," he whispers, distraught. "How could he--?"

 

Louis kisses him, then. His nerves seem to ease a bit. Harry doesn't know if it's because of what he's said or if Louis is just getting okay with things now.

 

When he pulls away, his thumbs brush Louis' middle and he has the same question on his lips.

 

"So, can I kiss you? Here?"

 

Louis blinks and carefully unstraddles him to climb onto the bed, his eyes avidly watching Harry's slow, gracious moves as he settles beside him with a tucked-in grin.

 

"Just for a bit, Lou," he promises, bending his body to reach.

 

Kissing Louis' body gets him harder than he's ever been. It's as though Louis has never been kissed like that before and that can't be true, he's got ten years on Harry's level of experience so he must have...but Harry likes feeling like his first, anyway, even if it's _not_ true.

 

He likes the breathy pants and helpless whines. He likes that Louis' _letting_ him. He hasn't been counting the days down but he feels rewarded somehow for his patience. All this waiting and finally he's struck gold; hit the jackpot and then some.

 

"Lou," his fingertips tuck into his jeans band and tug suggestively.

 

He looks up to see Louis swallow, shaky fingers reaching for his shoulders. He shifts to push up into his hands. Louis' fingers play with the curls growing into his neck, making him smile happily at the touch.

 

"Don't look," Louis whispers.

 

"I kind of have to," he arches a brow.

 

Louis bites his lips, eyes flitting to Harry's face. Harry kneels up over him, laying a gentle kiss to his lips.

 

"It's okay if you don't want to."

 

"I want you to-" Louis begins, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

"How about I make a trade?" Harry suggests with a warm, deep-pitched voice. "I get to give you a blow-job and I promise I'll come from it?"

 

Louis just stares at him, speechless.

 

"That's not a no," Harry smirks, resting his weight back on his heels as his fingers move to undo Louis' jeans.

 

Louis' hand pats around blindly, finally resting upon his and Harry pauses, thinking Louis is stopping him but his small hand circles his wrist instead, a controlling gesture but not forcing his touch any particular way, just steady and guiding.

 

Harry slows his hands down; taking Louis' jeans down with care, bunching them delicately around his thighs.

 

Louis' eyes are on him now, dark and uncertain and Harry wants him to relax and enjoy this, he wants him to know how amazing he is.

 

He runs his thumb up the thick ridge in Louis' boxer-briefs. smirking at the breathy gasp from Louis' lips.

 

"So gorgeous," his lips push into a pout. "Want to taste you..."

 

Louis' hand tightens on his wrist and he shifts a bit, trying to get his legs free from Harry's enclosing position. Harry kneels _between_ his thighs instead, curling his hand around his legs to pull Louis somewhat into his lap. Louis settles with his heels pressed into the small of Harry's back.

 

"This is nice," Harry smiles, cheeky. "Can we do this more often?"

 

Louis manages a breathy chuckle, rolling his eyes as he re-fastens his fingers around Harry's wrist.

 

"Okay, what first," Harry's brow raises and he's leaning over to suck a love-bite into Louis' belly before he can speak or stop him; throat pushing out moans of appreciation at the owning gesture.

 

Harry looks smug as he surveys the blooming bruise.

 

"Make sure you show Perrie that," he winks.

 

Louis feels his insides melt.

 

Harry's hands find him; softly, brushing and glancing over his skin, He kisses Louis' thighs but he must notice Louis' tension because he stops and goes back to palming over the front of his underwear; audaciously pulling the stretchy material away when Louis starts to chant his name.

 

Harry's hand is around him, stroking with his big palm and careful fingers and Louis thinks it's enough, knows he can come from this alone, it's been so long since anyone touched him and his own ministrations don't match up.

 

"Harry," he twists, begging.

 

Harry shuffles down low, resting his weight on his elbows to deep-throat him; mouth tightening around his heat and sucking, licking away at him with a sinful mouth and over-long tongue.

 

Louis remembers Harry's promise to get himself off but he can't see, he can't fathom how he's going to manage it with nothing to rut on and-

 

He whimpers, high-pitched and needy.

 

"Oh Lou," Harry mumbles a hand slipping into his own unbuttoned jeans; digging under his boxers to circle himself, stroking hard and fast to hit his peak.

 

Louis' grip on his wrist has been torn away and he tries to grasp his hair when he sinks his mouth back around him, but the tugging is making Harry groan deeply around him and he needs something, he needs-

 

Harry thrusts a hand up, the one that was down his shorts, and twines their fingers, his body grinding against Louis' knee; rutting onto his thigh in replacement for his lost hand and it's breath-taking really, that he would do that; that he would give up his own pleasure to reassure Louis, to hold his hand and tell him silently, that everything will be alright.

 

"Oh! Oh, Ha-..." Louis peaks; flushing into Harry's mouth as he swallows around him, pulling off to pant hard against Louis' belly as he fucks into his thigh; a breathy gasp sounding seconds later and accompanied by the heavy rhythmic humping of Harry's body against his leg.

 

Louis reaches out his unlinked hand to stroke his hair, both of them catching their breath.

 

"No wonder you don't like sex," Harry manages with a wrecked voice, lifting himself only to slump down beside Louis.

 

Louis strokes his hair still, slips an arm around his waist to bring him closer. He kisses Harry's temple.

 

"I do like sex," he murmurs.

 

"But you like...combust your partner," Harry accuses with a lazy drawl. "I'm not sure I'm even alive right now."

 

"The bonus of being with an older man," Louis whispers, teasing.

 

Harry smiles against Louis' shoulder, curling into his chest.

 

"Not sure it's an age thing," Harry says. "More just a Louis thing."

 

Louis stays quiet for long moments, biting back his self-derisive comments.

 

"I can't say I've combusted anyone before."

 

"You can now," Harry quips with a grin. "And from now on, you're wearing my tops more often."

 

Louis smiles quizzically at the comment, fingers happily crawling through Harry's curls.

 

"I am?"

 

"Everyone needs to know you're mine," Harry states. "It's very important that I claim you before anyone else does,"

 

Louis blinks, a soft smile on his lips. Nobody has ever wanted to claim him before. It's a strange feeling, one he would like to return somehow. He tightens his arms around Harry's body laid next to him, half upon him now.

 

"I want you as mine too, you know."

 

Harry hums, blinking sleepily.

 

Louis just doesn't know if he gets to keep him.

 

//

 

Louis' fingertips scratch lightly against the mattress as he lays on his back; watching Harry stroke himself to an inevitable high that leaves him choking out; breathless and sticky from his spurting seed. 

 

It's a thing now, to watch him. Harry needs more than Louis can give but he won't leave Louis.  Louis has tried. 

 

Harry curls up beside him, a post-orgasm habit. He lifts his arm so Harry can scoot closer and he shapes his arm around his shoulders. 

 

He's hard in his sports shorts and Harry doesn't always understand why.  Why he's turned on but not up for sex.  

 

"I didn't want to leave him at first."

 

Harry's head moves but he hums, an arm settling over Louis' middle. 

 

"You said he brainwashed you into staying."

 

"When you say nice things to me sometimes I wonder."

 

"If they're true?" Harry checks.

 

"If you want something," he swallows. 

 

"Lou..."

 

"He'd  buy flowers and I knew something was off but if I didn't want them or appreciate them he'd-"

 

Harry props onto his elbow, looking down.

 

"It's ok to be scared. I'm scared too."

 

Louis snorts and rolls his eyes.

 

"You're the last thing from scared."

 

Harry frowns a dig forming above his brow.

 

"I've never had something like this before, Louis. I've never-"

 

Louis' gaze sharpens on him at the deliberate pause. Harry lets out a barely noticeable sigh. 

 

"I've never met anyone who makes me feel like you do," he says but Louis knows those weren't his original words.

 

"You need more," Louis argues.

 

Harry knows he's talking about their sex life. They should be at it like rabbits by now.

 

"What I _want_ means more to me than what you _think_ I need."

 

Louis stares at him.

 

"Stay and study?"

 

It's become a pattern. Harry will loll in the armchair while Louis pretends to be busy around the house; usually just sitting on the couch to watch him.

 

"Okay," Harry smiles leaning in to kiss him. 

 

//

 

"Hey baby, you know I'm going to look after you."

 

Harry's hugging Louis. _Cuddling_ him, even, since his embrace has softened after the initial tight squeeze.

 

Harry keeps smelling his hair and brushing his lips over Louis' temple and brow.

 

Harry's been hugging him since he came inside his dorm room, a surprise visit.

 

Louis trembles because Harry's hands feel big on his back, roaming.

 

He feels his shirt get dragged up slightly, one of those gentle hands sliding under the material.

 

"Hmm," Harry's voice rumbles deliciously in his ear. 

 

"Harry," Louis grasps the back of his jumper, a colourful mohair thing that's no longer fluffy with being over-washed. The delicate wool is bobbled.

 

"Hm?" Harry leans into a slow kiss; one that leaves Louis tingling.

 

His hands automatically move to release Harry's jeans belt; hand unfurling to press palm down over his dick. The ridge forming there burns his skin as they segue into another deep tonguing kiss.

 

"Baby," Harry's hand drags over his ass cheek claimingly. 

 

"I'm not a baby," Louis whispers, sucking a biting kiss into Harry's jaw as proof. 

 

"But you're so perfect and small," Harry grins against his hair as he curls Louis close again.

 

Louis' hand is wedged between them. He flexes his fingers, rutting himself into the back of his hand with a little whimper.

 

"Fuck, I need to undress you," Harry tells him with a desire-broken voice.

 

Louis swallows at the request but doesn't deny it.

 

Harry's eyes focus on his, dark and wanton.

 

"Lou."

 

Louis nods, words stuck in his throat.

 

"Niall?" Louis whispers in question, the thought popping into his mind.

 

"He's out at some rave...told me not to expect him back until tomorrow..."

 

Louis waits for a moment, just looking into Harry's eyes looking into his. Then he steps back and unfastens his own belt. Harry steps out of his jeans while Louis carefully hooks his thumbs under the band to shove them down, but two big, warm and gentle hands curl over his, taking control.

 

"Let me?" Harry asks.

 

He's tall and bigger than Louis and Louis feels utterly fragile in his space but Harry's lips are soft and urgent on his and his hands splay so delicately over his lower back, cupping his behind and pressing palm-down onto his back hungrily so that he can't find it in himself to be afraid.

 

Harry's hands tug at his jeans mid-kiss, but he has to break it to bend, elegantly lowering to his knees to pull the denim off; Louis' legs becoming shaky now that he's in front of Harry and his direct gaze is upon him.

 

Harry's fingers circle his tiny ankle, thumb brushing over the delicate bones there, then sliding up over his shin, long fingers curving around his calf.

 

"Even more gorgeous," Harry's voice is so deep it rumbles. Louis' feels the vibration in the pit of his stomach. He feels it reverberate trough his heart.

 

Harry's thumb glances over his knee, fingers dipping into the curve behind and Louis' legs weaken; Harry's other hand coming up to steady him, curving around his thick thigh.

 

"I want to kiss these all over," Harry tells him.

 

Louis squeezes his eyes shut and swallows hard, opening his mouth to breathe. It sounds harsh in the room, too loud and scratchy.

 

"Hey."

 

The voice is soft, pleading.

 

"Lou, I won't," Harry calls. "I won't if you don't want me to."

 

Something soft brushes up against him, rose-petal soft and firm against his boxers.

 

"You'll let me kiss here, though, right?"

 

Louis staggers, foot going back to steady himself but his hand flails, not finding something solid to secure him.

 

"Baby," Harry quickly stands and wraps both arms around him.

 

Louis focuses on the word, on the utterly ridiculous pet-name Harry has assigned to him.

 

"You're the baby, not me," he murmurs, opening his eyes to look around for the bed.

 

It's only a few feet away and Harry moves with him, makes sure he's securely sat on it before he kneels back down.

 

"You're _my_ baby, though," Harry smirks, nosing between Louis' thighs to nudge his half- interested dick.

 

"Oh," the sound escapes Louis' lips before he can complain about the endearment any more. He swallows a moan.

 

Harry works his underwear off with gentle fingers, kissing up Louis' thigh slowly from his knee. This is the worst position for Louis to be in, his thighs fattened from sitting down, naked with nothing to hide his thickness.

 

He pulls at the hem of his top as if to stretch it over his lap but Harry takes it as a sign to tug off the item, Louis' arms feebly lifting to obey when Harry gets up. Louis opens his eyes when Harry doesn't move and he finds Harry standing, breath heavy, thick heat heavier; bulging against his own underwear as he watches him, green eyes over-taken by dark pupils.

 

"Lou....I want you."

 

Louis frowns because-

 

Why does he looks so damn guilty? Why does he look so _afraid_?

 

Louis lifts his foot to hitch up on the bed, pushing himself back into the middle of it.

 

Harry's knee presses to the edge, long body stalking him like prey; laying on top of him and wrapping him into a scorching kiss.

 

"You're beautiful, Louis," Harry tells him.

 

Louis swallows.

 

"Can we-can we turn off the light?"

 

Harry lifts himself up and lets his eyes take stock of the smaller man, padding to the door to flip the light switch and opening the curtain a few inches for enough light to see by. He fetches condoms and lube from his bottom draw, bouncing back onto the bed with a suddenly happy grin.

 

"Hi," he dimples, eyes shining at Louis as he lays the things over Louis' head and kisses his mouth quickly.

 

"Hi," Louis smiles back, tugging at the front of Harry's t-shirt.

 

Harry twists it off, kicking his underwear down his legs and flinging them off his toe into the middle of the floor.

 

"Whee!" He grins, curling back to Louis, utterly naked now.

 

Louis can't help the way his chest smarts, his laughter stuttering along with an urgent fear. Harry can see, now. He can see how he looks and he can decide whether Louis is really what he wants.

 

Louis swallows as Harry's hand glides onto his waist.

 

"Am I-do I look okay?"

 

Harry groans and rolls into a heated kiss, tongue licking into Louis' mouth as his heavy body rolls on top of him again, this time his hips squirming to press his heavy arousal against Louis' body for friction.

 

"Can you feel how hot I am?" Harry breathes against his ear. "Feel my pulse throbbing?"

 

Louis can. He can feel it all, the thick vein that runs the underside of Harry's dick presses close into his skin, pulsing against him hotly.

 

Louis has to get on top of him. He rolls them over, knees bracketing Harry's hips as they re-settle; Harry's hands curving around his legs ands apparently enjoying their short stubbiness.

 

"So curvy," Harry mumbles, distracted momentarily.

 

Curvy isn't a word Louis' used to hearing.

 

"You mean fat," he stretches his lips into a bare smile, turning his face to the side as Harry splays his hands over his belly and onto his chest.

 

Harry's eyes lift to his face.

 

"Lou."

 

Louis bites his lip and sighs, forcing himself to look back.

 

Harry's thumb brushes over his nipple, unfurling something in his belly. His hips rock involuntarily, big hand spanning his tiny waist. Harry leans up slowly, knees bending to balance himself. His tongue flicks out, swirling over the hard peak his thumb-pad has created.

 

Louis' breath catches, his eyes flutter shut.

 

"Harry," his hands cup Harry's head, fingers pushing into his beautiful hair.

 

Harry's hum is low and growled and Louis feels helpless to their connection; to how his body reacts despite his fears.

 

"Think about how it _feels_ ," Harry husks after a deep, long kiss. "Forget what you look like..."

 

Louis' hands press against his chest, run down his abs and work his heat in small palms until Harry begs him not to make him come yet. His hands push onto wide shoulders instead, gripping around strong biceps as Harry wraps those arms around him, kissing him softly.

 

It isn't unexpected when two slippery fingers part his ass-cheeks; insistent fingertips pressing against his rim. But it still takes him by surprise, somehow and he falls forward, a breathy gasp leaving his parted lips as he tightens his arms around Harry's shoulders.

 

"Baby, you're shaking," Harry murmurs, circling his rim and evidently holding back from sliding a digit inside.

 

"So good," Louis whispers, pulling back to look into Harry's face. He presses a thumb underneath Harry's bottom lip, placing a kiss into his lips shakily. "Haven't--so long," his face creases, awe taking over his features.

 

"Didn't he-" Harry begins to ask, then shakes his head, biting off his words. He doesn't want to take Louis back to the dark times, not when he has him in his lap, breathless and weak. "Feel good?" He asks instead, biting his lip.

 

Louis nods, pressing his flushed cheek against Harry's shoulder as he slumps against him a bit, gently pushing his hips back.

 

Harry takes the invitation and pushes a finger inside.

 

"Hmm," he smiles as it slides without resistance; his lips brushing Louis'. "So sweet, Lou..."

 

Louis resettles in his lap slightly, thighs tensing.

 

"Feels so good," Louis manages.

 

Harry's hand splays on his back, big and gentle.

 

"Want more?" He asks and feels Louis nod against his neck.

 

Louis begins to fuck himself on two fingers; high-pitched gasps countering low-throaty moans from Harry's lips. They kiss again, hard at first and desperate, softening into sweet, tender sucks of their lips. It feels like _too soon_ and _not soon enough_ when Louis begs for Harry to fill him.

 

"Lou...can I see you?" Harry asks as his hands shake in trying to put on a condom.

 

It's dark in the room with the slither of street-light through the curtains and Louis is all shadows and ghostly highlights.

 

"Please, don't," Louis whispers, pressing urgent kisses to Harry's cheek.

 

Harry nods his understanding and squirts lube over himself, reaching for Louis' hand. He shapes the smaller hand around himself.

 

"Feel me?"

 

Louis nods, hair sweaty and falling in his eyes. He flicks it away, squeezing Harry gently in his hand.

 

"No matter how big I feel, how hard...I won't hurt you, Louis," he whispers. "I promise."

 

Louis looks at him then, blue eyes meeting green and it feels like that lightening is striking him again and setting him alight all over again. He leans up, arms sliding back around Harry's shoulders and one of Harry's hands spans his back, the other around himself to steady his hard-on.

 

Harry noses into his ear, through his messed up hair.

 

"Go slow, baby."

 

Louis lowers himself, the heat broaching him at first feeling altogether too much; too thick for him to stretch around but then the feeling eases and he's gripping tightly to Harry with his inner muscles, letting out a breath as he pauses.

 

"Jesus," Harry holds him by the waist, leaning up to kiss him; more gently than Louis feels he deserves.

 

"I'll be okay," Louis assures, using his hands to press into Harry's chest for support. He wriggles his hips; swallowing at the sensation of Harry inside him, unrelenting and hard.

 

Harry had told him, had promised not to hurt him and Louis had had good sex before and he'd had bad sex but none of it compared to now; sliding all the way down on Harry's thickness.

 

"Oh!" His throat feels blocked, his tongue pushes into the roof of his mouth; half choking on the feel.

 

Harry's breathing heavy through his nose, nostrils flaring and knees bending to support Louis' weight so Harry can curl him in and kiss I'm slow.

 

"Why are you so beautiful?" Harry asks him, whining when Louis shifts to rise up and sink back down. "It's unbelievably unfair..."

 

Louis cups Harry's face and kisses him back, for all the times he's ever complimented him and for right now, not rushing anything to get to an inevitable end. He's pretty certain that at Harry's age, he wouldn't have shown the same patience and constraint.

 

"Thank you," he whispers against Harry's lips.

 

Harry kisses him, lips lingering tenderly against his.

 

"What for?" He asks anyway, letting out a panted sigh of pleasure as Louis screws down. "Ah, baby..."

 

"For waiting," Louis tells him, because it covers the weeks Harry didn't push him for sex and tonight; taking his time with foreplay.

 

Louis relishes the heat inside him, the feel of Harry's big body around him and how small he feels within his embrace. He doesn't feel fat because Harry's hands fit around his waist, curl around his thighs and his fingers circle his ankle claimingly; thumb brushing against the bone.

 

It's not long before they're both high on passion; reaching for the stars and crashing down amongst them as they pull down the bright sky. It falls on them sparkling and dark; a mixture of fizzers among black curtains.

 

All that can be heard for long moments, is harsh breathing, sucked breaths and long, let-out sighs. It fades away and Louis looks between them, blinking his eyes open to see the mess he's made over Harry's chest.

 

Harry's eyes are incredibly soft, his lips bright pink and swollen and Louis has to kiss him, has to taste his sweetness and convey all that he feels.

 

"Kitten," Louis smirks, secretly pleased to have his own condescending nick-name for his boyfriend.

 

Harry smiles, though and it unfurls slowly, turning toothy.

 

"Baby," Harry replies smugly, arms curling Louis in.

 

Louis presses one more kiss to his lips.

 

"Shower?" He checks.

 

Harry nods and Louis moves gingerly, careful not to rush. It's been too long and his body isn't used to the stretch.

 

"Lou? Did I hurt you?"

 

Harry's eyes fasten to his bare back worriedly.

 

Louis turns and holds out his hand.

 

"Come on, Kitten," he says only.

 

Harry unfolds from the bed and takes his hand to be led to the shower.

 

//

 

Niall finds them asleep; haphazardly dressed in some of Harry's softest clothes, Louis' hands swallowed by the too-long sleeves and collar-bones exposed by the gaping neckline of he jumper he's borrowed.

 

They're spooning and Harry's the little spoon to Louis' smaller body and Niall can't help sliding his phone out to snap them unawares. He smirks to himself as he thinks about when he can use the picture to blackmail them into helping him when he needs it.

 

"Oi, oi," he calls loudly, pretending he's only just come inside the room, kicking his trainers off so that they bang against the bedside cupboard.

 

Harry's head lifts first, stark and shocked.

 

"Hm-wha?"

 

Niall stomps over to ruffle his hair, ruffling Louis' in turn.

 

"Look at you two love birds," he smiles inanely. "You'd be cute if it wasn't so sickening..."

 

Louis wakes up more slowly, yawning and stretching before curling into Harry's back again, arm around his waist. Harry smiles and smushes his cheek into the pillow.

 

"I thought you weren't coming back till later," Harry accuses his friend warmly.

 

"I can see that," he muses. "But you thought wrong."

 

Niall moves and bounces on his bed to reach for his phone, carrying it back to take more pictures of Harry and Louis in bed.

 

"Hey-" Harry reaches for the device but Niall only jerks it away, smirking.

 

The farther Harry leans out of the covers, the more naked his uncovered body is until eventually Niall has the perfect full-body shot; Harry's soft skin slightly unfocused, his hair a mess and his face showing his irritation. But the smooth planes of his body are clear, the definition of his muscles under his tattoos is evident.

 

Niall looks very happy with himself as he loads the picture up.

 

"Niall, what are you-?" Harry huffs, dragging the bed sheet over his skin.

 

Louis presses a kiss to his bare shoulder.

 

"That's my boyfriend you're exposing to the entire University Campus," he tells Niall calmly.

 

Niall's eyes flit to his, lips pursing.

 

"Make it worth my while not to share it," he challenges.

 

"Ni, for fuck's sake," Harry mutters, wriggling to swing his legs over the mattress and wrestle him onto his own bed only to punch some sense into him.

 

Louis' arms around his middle stop him and he sags a bit with a sigh.

 

"Lou, I'll beat the crap out of him. Don't let him blackmail you..."

 

"What's your price?" Louis asks the blonde anyway with a smile.

 

Niall's fingers hesitate on the screen, eyes narrowing. Harry is already popular around Uni, a picture like this could make his life difficult, especially now that he has a boyfriend. An _older_ boyfriend.

 

"Nandos," Niall states.

 

He changes the recipient of the photo's he's taken and attaches them to a private message in Facebook for Louis. They've uploaded before Louis replies.

 

"Deal."

 

Niall grins.

 

"Awesome."

 

//

 

"My mum wants to meet you."

 

Louis' walking around the shops with Harry one weekend; their hands twined.

 

"Oh?" Louis looks up at his boyfriend with a concerned frown.

 

He smiles a bit sheepishly.

 

"She saw the picture on my phone that Niall took."

 

Louis' eyes widen.

 

"Shit..."

 

"No, not that one," Harry smirks of the naked shot Niall got of him. "The spooning one. I set it as my screen-saver."

 

Louis' eyes soften because that picture is his screen-saver, too.

 

"Does she know?" He asks, because he needs to know how hard it's going to be to meet her.

 

Harry blinks.

 

"Know what?"

 

Louis rolls his eyes.

 

"How old I am."

 

Harry frowns.

 

"I haven't exactly announced it," he counters.

 

Louis swallows.

 

"You should probably give her a heads up..."

 

Harry's tongue curls over his upper lip and Louis recognises uncertainty flashing across his features, but it disappears as quickly as it comes and his lips quirk into a small smile.

 

"She's pretty cool. I think she'll be okay with it."

 

"Harry," Louis stops walking, tugging on Harry's hand to stop him, too.

 

Harry blinks, lips pressing together.

 

"It'll be fine," he assures, but Louis doesn't like the sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

 

//

 

He wears a suit to meet Harry's mum. He combs his hair into an artful quiff and shaves his stubble away. His hands are shaking by the time Harry's leading him up the path by the hand.

 

"Shit," he hisses, quietly to himself. "Shit. She's going to hate me..."

 

"Hey, shush," Harry slows down to slide an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss into the top of his hair. "Let me talk to her, okay?"

 

"You should have done that first," Louis accuses, a little sharply and Harry feels the accusation strike him painfully in the chest.

 

Louis is right. He should have. But he knows as well as Louis does that not everyone will approve of their relationship.

 

He'd made love to Louis this morning; leaning over him and staring into his beautiful blue eyes; their intimacy turning him on harder than any other lover he'd had before.

 

He hopes his Mum can see that, hopes she can appreciate the stability Louis brings to his life.

 

"Harry!" She opens the door before they reach it and he walks into her arms, hugging her tightly as he buries his face into her shoulder.

 

Anne Styles smiles largely and pulls away to survey Harry's friend. Her eyes flick over him, downwards and then back up, eyes scanning his face. Louis feels like his heart is about to stop.

 

"You must be Louis," she says softly.

 

Louis lets out a nervous breath and rubs his hands together.

 

"Come here then, love," she gathers him close in a less-encompassing hug. "You look nice."

 

Louis licks his lips nervously, sweat forming on his upper lip.

 

"Meeting the parents," he smiles. "Like to make a good impression."

 

Anne glances at Harry curiously but Harry just pastes on a smile.

 

"Shall we come in?" He asks, letting Louis go ahead of him to follow his mum into the house.

 

//

 

"So what are you studying, then Louis?"

 

Anne is pouring tea as Harry munches his way steadily through a plate of home-made cookies. He smirks as he watches Anne smack his hand playfully.

 

"Save some for Louis."

 

Harry swallows thickly, eyes glancing to his beau.

 

Louis lifts his brows at Harry and takes a deep breath.

 

"I'm not actually studying anything," he replies. "I work at the library. I've worked there for ten years."

 

Anne's own brows rise and her lips part, the tea almost spilling in her moment of distraction.

 

"Oh. Oops, I've made a made a mess there haven't I?" She smiles brightly, fetching kitchen towel to mop up the spill.

 

Harry jumps up from his seat to take over. He clears his throat.

 

"I met Louis through the show," he offers quietly, avoiding her gaze. "I helped him out and we-"

 

"We just clicked," Louis finishes his sentence with a nervous tug at the hem of his jacket. "I tried to deny how I felt but-"

 

Anne's gaze flicks between the two men, Harry standing awkwardly in the kitchen like a little boy who's about to be told off for playing football in the street when he wasn't allowed to.

 

"The picture on Harry's phone," she finally says. "It was so lovely."

 

Louis lets a smile ghost his lips.

 

"I have the same one on my phone."

 

"Harry." Anne addresses her son. "Take the drinks into the living room, I want a quick word with Louis if you don't mind."

 

"Mum," Harry leans forward where he's hitched his hip against the counter. "Please don't-"

 

"Hush," she waves a hand. "Get to it," she turns and digs out a tray for him to load up the cups and plate of cookies.

 

Harry turns at the door, eyes soulful as he bites his lip.

 

Louis watches him go with a knot in his belly.

 

//

 

"So."

 

Anne glances at him.

 

"Is this the speech?" He broaches honestly. "Because I've had it with myself about fifty times since I met him..."

 

Anne tilts her head, coming to sit beside him.

 

"It's up to Harry who he dates," she tells him. "I don't know why he felt like he couldn't tell me about you but-"

 

Her frown worries him.

 

"You must mean a lot to him. He only hides the things that are special to him, usually."

 

Louis turns, eyes tracing her features. Harry takes after her so much he can't help but smile.

 

"I hope so. He's very special to me too."

 

"And I do have a speech," Anne adds, sobering him. "About how much damage I can do to you if you ever break my son's heart..."

 

Louis' eyes widen because that's not what he was expecting. _At all_.

 

"What?"

 

"I give the same speech to anyone he brings home," she shares.

 

Louis licks his lips.

 

"Have there...been many?" His voice pitches higher at the last two words and Anne smiles then, rubbing his thigh comfortingly.

 

"No, love."

 

Louis nods, gaze going back to his lap.

 

"I-I love him, you know. I haven't told him yet but. You don't have to worry about me. I know I'm not who you'd pick for him but he refuses to break up with me and-"

 

Anne squeezes his thigh.

 

"To be honest as put together as Harry is, it's nice to know he has a calming influence," she muses. "He forgets he's the one who needs protecting sometimes."

 

"Doesn't he," Louis murmurs with an amused smirk.

 

Anne smiles at him, getting up.

 

"Let's join him before he paces through my carpet."

 

Louis gets up and follows her through.

 

//

 

"What did she say?"

 

"Nothing much. She's nice."

 

Harry stares at him, gathering him a bit closer where they lay together in bed.

 

"What do you mean "nothing much"? You were gone for ages."

 

"Not really," Louis says.

 

"Did she give you a hard time?"

 

Louis smiles, kissing his lips.

 

"No."

 

Harry smiles back.

 

"She gave me a hard time for not telling her about you."

 

"But she didn't mind?" Louis checks.

 

"She said we'd find it harder than most couples."

 

Louis hums, tightening his arms.

 

"I agree with her."

 

Harry shifts a bit, knee sliding between Louis' and hands splaying on his back in that way he's come to love.

 

"I won't let you go, though."

 

"I know, I tried," Louis teases with a chuckle, kissing his lips again.

 

Harry beams at him slowly, releasing his dimples.

 

"You shouldn't have been so adorable."

 

Louis chokes on the compliment, letting out a stark laugh.

 

"Don't think I could be described as adorable when you met me."

 

Harry sobers a bit, thumb tracing Louis' cheek.

 

"Well, you were. You just didn't know it."

 

"Harry, you've given me the confidence to face my issues head-on," Louis says then. "But what have I given you?"

 

"Something pretty to look at," Harry grins audaciously all teeth and charm.

 

Louis rolls his eyes.

 

Harry's nose nuzzles his, a tender kiss pressed to his lips.

 

"You give me a reason to believe in love."

 

Louis' eyes focus on his.

 

"You're the only person who just accepts me for who I am," Harry adds. "I don't have to put on an act when I'm with you. I don't have to _pretend_."

 

"You know," Louis takes a breath, licking his lips. " _No, you don't know_ ," he babbles to himself. "You-I..."

 

Harry kisses his cheek.

 

"I love you."

 

Louis blinks, a frown drawing between his brows.

 

"I wanted to say it first," he accuses with a pout.

 

Harry tempts him into a lingering kiss. Louis cups his face as he rolls on top of him.

 

"I love you, Harry."

 

"I know."

 

Louis blinks.

 

"How can you possibly know? I don't talk in my sleep do I?"

 

Harry shakes his head.

 

"I know because it's how you make me _feel_. Loved."

 

Louis feels a mushroom of lightness burst into his chest cavity; fluttering in his heart like butterfly wings; like the ones drawn on Harry's abs.

 

"I do?"

 

Harry presses kisses to his collarbones and then lower onto his chest.

 

"Hmm-mm," he licks over Louis' nipple and smirks as his breath catches.

 

Louis wraps his legs around Harry's waist, fingers digging into his hair.

 

"Kitten."

 

Harry looks up from kissing his stomach.

 

"Hmm?"

 

Louis bites his lip.

 

"You can-" he swallows, eyes urging Harry to understand.

 

Harry takes a moment to follow, eyes widening.

 

"Your thighs?" He checks.

 

Louis nods and Harry grins, brushing his lightly stubbled jaw into the apex with a giggle.

 

"Fucking finally!"

 

Louis' hands stay on him as he kisses the skin, sucking bruises there lovingly and burning the skin with his beard.

 

Louis comes harder than ever that night.

 

//

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Love Hour (fanart)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786173) by [Halfanheart158](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfanheart158/pseuds/Halfanheart158)




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